ANGUISH

That quote hit like a ton of bricks.  I knew immediately what I was "evading".  Mrs. Ballantyne had appeared at the perfect time in a place where she had never been before and clearly did not belong.  Given that she had no business being at my grocery store, the only explanation that made a bit of sense was the Hidden Hand of God had guided her to my side.  However, for three years I had been unable to accept this possibility. 

The 'Evading Quote' reminded me of something a friend had recently said to me, "Are you confident the way you view the world is the way it really is?"  No, I was not confident.  In fact, I had not been confident ever since I met Maria Ballantyne.  Never before had my existing view of Reality been challenged quite like this.  I had been taught to believe God does not interfere with our lives and that we are on our own to figure things out.  However, for three years I had been unable to shake the feeling that God had brought Mrs. Ballantyne to me in my time of need.  What was it going to be, Pure Accident or Divine Intervention?  At that moment, something snapped inside me. I surrendered my skepticism.  Finally convinced that Mrs. Ballantyne's appearance was indeed a miracle, I decided to put my trust in God.  From that point on my entire belief system became wrapped around a decision to bravely follow whatever I thought to be God's Will.

FLASHBACK:  THE 1974 LEAP OF FAITH

The worst thing to ever happen to me took place in 1974.  Age 24, I was betrayed in a very cruel way by a woman named Vanessa.  Not long after that I was thrown out of graduate school by Professor Fujimoto.  Failure in Love, Failure in Career, I plunged horribly out of control into an Abyss. 

I was deeply love with Vanessa.  Why?  Because she said she loved me.  Her words were so sincere that I let my guard down.  In hindsight that was a terrible mistake.  One week later Vanessa's old boyfriend came knocking on her door.  Vanessa let him in.

Ashamed of herself, Vanessa had a tough decision to make.  There was no way she had the guts to tell me.  Furthermore, she did not want to see me go.  However, Vanessa had no way to get rid of her old boyfriend unless she told him the truth.  Terrified of his temper, Vanessa had a convenient solution.  Hoping to resume her education and leave her checkered past behind, she had previously made plans to return home to Portland over the Holidays.  Vanessa had spoken to me about changing her mind, but her indiscretion had made that impossible.  Better just to leave and start over.  Rather than face the pain of revealing her mistake to either man, Vanessa decided to juggle her lovers instead.  Over the remaining six weeks she deceived both of us.  Meanwhile I was totally bewildered by her sudden about-face.

Although Vanessa was a consummate liar, she wasn't as good as she thought she was.  My intuition warned me repeatedly that something was wrong.  Had I listened to my feelings, I could have limited the damage and spared myself the worst heartache of my life.  Instead I was so shaken by Vanessa's betrayal it would take four years to regain my confidence around women.  During my long climb back, I made a silent vow.  The next time my Intuition told me to do something, I would do it.

Upon my return to Houston I developed a form of mental illness.  On my worst days I referred to it as 'The Curse of Vanessa'.  Other days I called it my 'Rejection Phobia'.  Whenever I saw a woman I was attracted to, I would have a panic attack complete with all the classic symptoms of fear.  I would tremble and feel dizzy.  My heart would race, I would break out in a sweat, my hands would shake.  On the rare occasion I could force myself to approach a woman I would either stutter or find myself tongue-tied.  The anxiety was so overwhelming, for a while there I just gave up trying. 

Phobia is defined as Fear taken to an unreasonable extreme.  Theoretically women are not as dangerous as poisonous snakes, but that is how I felt.  Once bit, twice shy.  I was so terrified of getting hurt again, I could not force myself to approach any woman I found attractive.  In fact, I couldn't even force myself to leave my apartment at night.

Desperate for some kind of solution to my misery, out of the blue a random thought suggested I go to a bookstore.  Maybe some book would to describe an easy way to meet women.  That is when I ran across the Mistress Book.  The author was disgusting.  All he wanted to do was brag about his countless conquests.  Irritated, I was about to put the book back when the oddest thought crossed my mind.  I wondered what year the book was written.  Now ask yourself this... how many times have you looked at what year the book was written AFTER you have already decided the book is trash?  But that is what I did.  I retrieved the book from the shelf and thumbed to the front for a peek.

I gasped when I noticed the book had been dedicated to a woman named Vanessa.  It said, "To Vanessa, Who's sorry now?"  That message hit like a lightning bolt.  Feeling shivers, I interpreted this strange coincidence as an omen from the Universe to buy this book.  And so I did.  It cost one dollar to buy the book that would change my life. 
 

Serious

The book said the easiest way to meet women who are strangers is ask her to dance.  That suggestion definitely caught my eye.  However, I already knew from several embarrassing experiences in the past that I lacked any kind of dance ability whatsoever.  That is when I recalled making a vow to follow my Intuition no matter how crazy, so I gave in and cooperated.  Given that I was well aware of my lack of affinity for dancing, it took a SERIOUS LEAP OF FAITH to follow this suggestion against my better judgment.

So naturally the Reader expects I was immediately rewarded for my strange decision.  Absolutely not.  To my dismay, my first dance class was an utter disaster.  As expected, I could not dance a lick.  That was bad enough, but it got worse.  A group of seven socialites had been taking this class by themselves for a month.  They liked the privacy.  Assuming the class belonged to them, the seven women resented having an unwashed vermin like me in the room.  Seeing me struggle, they openly mocked my difficulty as a way to discourage me from returning.  Appalled by their hostility, I fell to pieces and my dancing got worse (as if that was possible).  I stayed after class hoping the instructor might help.  Yeah, he offered to help all right.  David invited me to come home with him.  After lunch, he promised he would give me a 'private lesson'.  Although I admire men who are good-looking, I am not sexually attracted to them.  Nevertheless I was deeply hurt by David's aggressive offer.  This guy could tell I was having serious emotional problems.  No doubt he concluded my judgment was impaired.  Drop a couple Quaaludes in my soft drink and I could be his afternoon road kill. 

I should have quit, but I didn't.  Why not?  Because I thought God had directed me to this class for a reason.  That is why I returned the next week.  Did God reward me?  No.  I labored with dance lessons for four long years without a single hint that I was correct in following my Intuition.  Then one day something strange happened.  Just about the time my dancing had begun to improve, a teacher named Rosalyn asked me to substitute while she took a summer vacation.  The next thing I knew, Saturday Night Fever hit town.

Serious

Lucky Break
Coincidence

Today was Saturday, August 18.  Game time.  I thought back to my ski trip to Tahoe in January.  The chance to be around a group of friends who had met at the studio back in the Eighties was responsible for this cruise idea.  They had reminded me of the spirit and camaraderie that was the hallmark of SSQQ in its infancy.  Determined to recreate that energy, I was pleased to note this cruise trip had done just that.  With 100 people aboard, the enthusiasm was sky high.  With one exception.  Me.  I was mired deep in depression.  Just when I had finally convinced myself that Marla's boyfriend was a thing of the past, I had discovered otherwise in about the cruelest manner I could imagine.  The news of Marla's trip to Miami had ripped my heart out.  All week long I was tormented by a dark fantasy of frenzied Salsa dancing followed by passionate sex deep into the night.  I had no right to think this way, but I could not seem to help myself.  Why not admit the truth?  I was not a healthy person.  The thought of Miami made me far more jealous than I had any right to feel.  I had no idea why Marla was so important to me, but they say feelings don't always have to make sense. 

As I waited for Connie to arrive, I was in a serious scorched-earth kind of mood.  My disappointment over Marla's Miami trip with Chris was no longer a sharp stabbing pain, but I was still pretty upset.  With all hope regarding Marla lost, I turned stone cold.  If I wasn't in charge, I would have skipped this trip.  However, I was responsible for dance lessons, taking photographs, party music and hosting duties.  No matter how upset I was, I would not let my personal problems sabotage this wonderful adventure for my guests. 

What bothered me the most was how jealous I felt every time I thought Marla's Miami trip.  Good grief, I had no right to feel so possessive.  What the heck is wrong with me?  I am 50 years old and here I am behaving like a forlorn schoolboy with sand kicked in his face.  The healthy part of my mind understood that Marla had not spurned me.  However it still it felt that way.  In addition, I was still stunned by the colossal failure of my Intuition.  Previously in my life I had made several long-shot decisions specifically because I trusted my Intuition so much.  Each time my Intuition had been validated.  Until now of course.  The shock over the Miami trip made me doubt myself.  That was a major reason why I was so upset.  I had bet the farm on my Instinct only to be badly betrayed by my belief system. 

It blew my mind that I would be taking this cruise all by myself.  I gone to a lot of trouble organizing this trip, but what did I have to show for it?  Not a damn thing.  Trying to be philosophical, maybe some girl would take pity on me during the trip.  Ignoring the fact that I most likely had a standing offer from Connie, I had never felt more alone.  It was not going to be Marla, that's for sure.  I could not believe how grouchy I felt.  The moment I heard the doorbell ring, my first impulse was refuse to answer.  Finally I forced myself to get up.  I did not want to go on this trip, but what choice did I have?

Seeing Connie's Cheshire grin as I opened the door, I groaned.  Oh no, what have I gotten myself into?  Connie was so excited to see me she even offered to carry some of my luggage.   At this moment I had never hated myself more.  Connie probably had the same hopes for me that I once had for Marla.  I shook my head in disgust.  If it had not been for my intense disappointment, I could have at least found the decency to show gratitude for her offer to drive.  However, as things stood, I could barely manage a wan smile. 

Connie did not seem to notice my foul mood.  She was happy as a lark.  In fact, she wasted no time inviting herself in.  She took several steps inside, petted my two dogs and looked around.  Realizing I was not offering a home tour, she said, "Rick, do you mind if I use your restroom?"

I rolled my eyes.  Where have I heard that line before?  No doubt she would check out the bedroom as well. 

"Of course, Connie.  I will begin carrying the luggage out.  And if you're curious, the bedroom is on the right."

No, I didn't say that, but I wanted to.  In the off-chance I would cheer up, there was no reason to be rude.  I shrugged.  Who knows, maybe later in the trip I would not feel so hostile.  Connie reminded me of Ashley.  Connie's smoke signals were so strong I began to look around for the fire extinguisher.  Bold and brazen.  This style had worked for Ashley, so what about Connie?  Under normal circumstances, Connie and I would have connected.  She was an attractive woman.  However, Timing is everything.  My heart was too damaged by Miami to respond.  Not just that, what I needed was a woman I felt safe with.  Connie reminded me too much of Vanessa. 

As we headed down the freeway to Galveston, Connie was wired.  Talking non-stop, every word she said aggravated me more.  Damn it to hell, I flinched at the degree to which Miami had poisoned my attitude.  Why did I care about Marla so much?  It made no sense.  At this moment I was more cynical about women than I had been all year.  Romance was for other people, not me.  My track record said it all.  I had tried hard to make my marriage work, but to no avail.  I had been single for the past eight months and had yet to find a girlfriend.  The one I liked could have cared less.  The way I felt, any woman with an ounce of intuition could tell there was something wrong with me.  That was the problem with Connie.  Any woman who liked me this much must have something wrong with her. 

Oh well.  Despite my toxic reputation, there were ten more women than men in our group.  Given those odds, maybe I could trip one as she passed by and get her to talk to me.  Or better yet, I could pretend to trip over her and play the sympathy angle.  After all, several people had assured me I was worth a second look in the Recycle Bin.  Maybe so.  However, given the mood I was in, I felt sorry for whoever took the bait.  Beware my heart of darkness.

Connie and I boarded the Carnival Celebration a little before 3 pm.  Several guests saw me in the registration line and thanked me for doing this.  That helped cheer me up a bit.  Although some of my rotten mood eased, I could not believe how lonely I was.  Here we go with the Seesaw again.  When I am in a happy relationship, I neglect the studio.  But whenever I am miserable, the studio benefits.  Story of my life.  When it came to the studio, loneliness had always brought out the best in me.  Some day I would like to figure out how to be happy and help the studio be successful at the same time.  So far it had not happened and this trip seemed likely to repeat that worn out theme. 

Despite my bad mood, at least I was able to feel the satisfaction that comes from doing a good job.  It was good to regain my mantle as Leader of the Pack.  Through promotional stories in the Newsletter and six months of face to face persuasion, I had stirred up a hornet's nest of energy.  This was exactly how it used to be back in the Eighties when we went skiing or took a summer trip to the Bahamas.  It had been fun to watch the energy build.  Indeed, the buzz at last week's pre-cruise meeting had been phenomenal.  Even people who weren't going had come to the meeting.  When I asked, they said they were curious to see how my grand experiment would work out. 

I had hoped to share this trip with someone who enjoyed my company.  Unfortunately, I wasn't sure how I was going to get rid of this awful sadness that kept nagging me.  If I could just smile a little, I could probably meet someone on this trip.  Maybe even Connie.  However, as things stood, I could not move on until my sense of loss faded.  With a snort of disgust, I thought of South Pacific. 

"I'm gonna wash that girl right out of my hair!!"

Yeah, good luck with that.  I would much rather be singing "Some Enchanted Evening". 

Day One: Saturday, 5:30 pm

THE checklist

As I entered my cabin, the first thing I noticed was a prominently-displayed bottle of champagne with a ribbon on it no less.  Hmm.  I once had a girlfriend who lived by the motto that there is always another fish in the sea.  Who could I share this with?  Connie had been so obnoxious during the ride, she stood at Defcon Red.  Marla was off my Checklist, but what about the other three?  My spirits rallied at the thought of sharing this bottle with one of them.

In return for sponsoring this trip, the travel agency had given me three free cabins.  I kept one for myself and donated the other two.  Despite my grouchy mood, I smiled at the memory of how grateful the four men had been.  On the other hand, what was I thinking?  Stupid me, my generosity had reduced my odds of finding a companion.  The way my luck was going, I needed every spare chance I could get.  As I sat on my bed, I caught myself staring at the bottle of champagne.  To my surprise, the bottle stared back.  With my first laugh of the day, I recalled a cynical Nietzsche quote. 

"If you gaze too long into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back at you."

This bottle symbolized my dire straits.  Champagne was meant to be shared by two people who care about each other.  Well, it wasn't too late.  I had created happiness for a lot of people, so hopefully there would be happiness for me too.  However, in the mood I was in, I did not see that happening.  Ever since Christmas Eve, I could not remember feeling more bitter than I felt right now.  I decided to save that bottle for the unlucky girl who decided to take a chance on me.  Sensing my bad mood, the champagne bottle tried to cheer me up.

"C'mon, Rick, don't be such a grouch.  You have your eye on three attractive women.  All three have shown interest in the past.  Surely one will welcome your company."

And of course there was always Connie.  Just then there was a knock on my cabin door.  Speak of the devil, there she was, in the flesh.  During the hour ride to Galveston, Connie had smeared lipstick on the windshield to announce her availability.  No, really, but it felt that way.  Good grief, woman, try subtlety for a change.  Now, just in case I had missed her previous clues, here she was again.  What does she want?

"Rick, I was hoping you would join me at dinner tonight."

Just then the champagne bottle whispered to me, "Here I am if you need me."

Irritated, I told the champagne bottle to shut up before I threw it over the railing. 

"Connie, I have to bring my music equipment back to the cabin after the Cocktail Party, so I'll be late.  Save me a seat, I promise to look for you."

That was a lie, but not a complete lie.  I would definitely look to see where Connie was sitting, then go sit somewhere else.  Ten minutes later there was another knock.  The champagne bottle looked at me expectantly, but I said forget it.  Not Connie again, please.  No doubt she will ask to use my restroom.  Despite my irritation, I answered anyway.  To my pleasant surprise, it was not Connie, it was Kellie, one of the three ladies on my checklist.  Aha!  Kellie would be the perfect woman to chase my blues away.  Kellie was smart, good-looking, great dancer.  I was very pleased to see her.  Kellie seemed happy to see me as well, so I welcomed her in.  I smiled when she closed the door behind her.  Hmm, interesting gesture.  She could have left it open.  Kellie and I had never been alone before.  As smoke signals go, this was a very good sign.  Kellie found the couch, located an extra pillow and made herself comfortable.  If I didn't know better, Kellie was acting like she wanted to stay awhile.  This was another good sign.  Kellie told me how impressed she was at all people on this trip. 

"As I stood in the registration line, I could not turn sideways without recognizing someone from the studio.  I don't know how to explain the feeling.  On paper I understood that 100 is a big number, but seeing so many familiar faces hit me a different way.  You should be proud of yourself.  You did a really good job!"

 I thanked Kellie for the compliment.  A good start. 

"Incidentally, what time does your 'Welcome Aboard' cocktail party start tonight?"

"It starts at 7 pm."  I paused as the champagne bottle whispered to me.  "Hey, Rick, offer her a drink, see where her mind is at!"

Ah, good idea!  "Listen, Kellie, I have a bottle of champagne.  We have a little over an hour before the party.  Would you like to help me make a toast to the success of the trip?" 

When I reached for the bottle and lifted it for display, Kellie turned white.  Obviously she could read my mind.  Kellie had been all smiles when she came in, but the sight of the bottle turned her smile to panic.  Looking at her watch, Kellie immediately sprung to her feet.  

"Oh, no, thanks for the offer, but I don't have the time.  You know what I mean, shower, makeup, hair, the right outfit, the works.  I barely have enough time to get ready.  I'll see you on the dance floor!"

I wondered what had changed Kellie's mind.  The implications of coming into my room uninvited suggested Kellie recognized how much we had in common just as I did.  I did not advertise my room number, a sure sign that Kellie had gone to the front desk to inquire.  Why go to that trouble when the time was listed on the trip handout I was certain Kellie kept handy.  In other words, asking what time the party started was a flimsy excuse.  We chatted for close to 15 minutes and not once had Kellie shown any signs of leaving.  And why should she?  Kellie had well over an hour to get ready.  There was plenty of time to share a glass of champagne, maybe even a kiss to test the waters, then offer a face-saving reason to disengage before things got out of control.  But that is not what happened.  Kellie uncharacteristically darted out of my room as if the ship's alarm had just gone off.  Given how smooth she had been so far, Kellie's Titanic Panic attack struck me as very strange.  Was I offended?  No.  But I was very disappointed.  Given how pleased I was to see her, Kellie could have locked me up for the duration of the trip right there.  But in a flash Kellie was gone. 

Which brings me back to my favorite theme, Fate.  I would bet serious money that Kellie was interested.  In a previous chapter, I spoke about the "The Profile".  Although Painted Ladies and Jewelry Seekers had no interest in me, I was especially attractive to women like Kellie who were very smart.  Like I said, intelligent women frequently despair of finding a man with the quick wits to match their own.  That was one of the reasons I had assumed Marla would find me interesting.  For that same reason, Kellie and I would have fit like a glove.  Maybe not for a lifetime, but definitely for the duration of this trip.   

During the past year Kellie had kept her distance, but I caught her glancing several times.  During an especially warm conversation at the studio after class one night, I took her laughter for an invitation.  On the spot I invited Kellie to go dancing with me.  When she turned me down, I could have sworn she was the verge of saying yes.  Irritated by her hot and cold behavior, I did not ask again.  Consequently I did not know what to make of her rapid departure from my cabin.  I knew that Kellie and my ex-wife were friends.  Perhaps that was why Kellie had been skittish around me.  But why should that be a problem now?  Judy and I had parted amicably, so I had a clean slate.  Not only that, eight months had passed.  Not only that, here we are at sea, so what's stopping her.  We are adults, correct?  One would think I should be considered fair game at this point.  If Kellie wanted to check me out, what's stopping her?

Maybe this is a good time for a confession.  I put myself down a lot.  As well I should.  The way I felt these days, I admit my confidence was not particularly high.  But once upon a time, attracting a woman like Kellie would have been effortless.  I am not saying Kellie was smitten.  What I am saying is that she had good reason to be interested.  She was unattached, she loved to dance with me, she knew I was bright, she knew I was worth kicking the tires to see if I had any tread left.  So what went wrong?  If you prefer Realistic Reasons, my toxic reputation scared her off.  Or perhaps her loyalty to Judy.  But if you prefer Reasons related to Fate, based on the speed with which Kellie sprinted out the door, I have to wonder if the Invisible Matchmaker in the sky sent Kellie the message to get lost. 

Let me add that Kellie avoided me at the Welcome Aboard party an hour later.  Something spooked this woman, I am sure of it.  Seeing her ignore me at the party, I reluctantly crossed Kellie off the Checklist.  My Checklist was shrinking fast.  Two down, two to go.  Oh well, there's still Rebecca, the Beauty Queen.  Her stunning good looks made her an enticing prospect.  However Priscilla was my best bet.  Priscilla had a wisdom and gentleness about her I found attractive.  She was a great listener who always had a way of drawing me out of my shell.  That is exactly what I needed right now.  Considering I had never seen Priscilla with anyone at the studio, I expected to get a chance to be alone with her.  That would be nice.  I could really use a hug. 

Day One: Saturday, 7-8 pm

THE WELCOME BOARD COCKTAIL PARTY

Still irritated by my near-miss with Kellie, I arrived at the Dance Lounge in a sour mood.  The travel agency had rewarded me with an hour-long cocktail party complete with free drinks.  I had brought music equipment from the studio.  After hooking the sound system up to my computer, a pre-recorded music list freed me to skip Deejay duty.  This allowed me to dance with the ladies and emcee the event without having to worry over what song to play next.  Even though I was 15 minutes early, the place was already mobbed.  Never underestimate the lure of free booze on a cruise.  As I set up the sound equipment, people kept streaming in.  The room was so crowded, I assumed all 100 guests were in attendance.  Bless their hearts, the ship's wait staff started bringing the drinks in early.  There was a selection on each tray ranging from red to white wine, champagne, plus fruit-flavored cocktails such as rum punch.  The complimentary cocktails made things festive in a flash.  The moment the music started, every guest grabbed a drink, gulped it down, grabbed another for good luck, knocked it down too, then raced to the floor.  Despite my personal woes, I could not help but bask in the enthusiasm.  It was a source of great satisfaction to see how much fun everyone was having.  I may have even smiled a couple times.

Something that pleased me greatly was watching how perfectly the couples and singles meshed.  I knew that Practice Night was responsible.  People were used to dancing with lots of partners.  There was no tension or awkwardness when a single man asked a married woman to dance or a married man asked a single woman.  Thanks to Practice Night plus my tradition of rotating partners in dance class, these people had danced together many times in the past.  Half the people in the room were old friends.  After two drinks the other half were old friends as well.  I was tickled to see my party resemble a Family Reunion.  I felt tremendous pride to know my Tahoe ski trip revelation had come to pass.  Right before my eyes the SSQQ Community Spirit had come roaring back to life. 
 

Apparently the resident Cupid at SSQQ had decided to come along.  As I watched the birds and the bees dance up a storm, Romance was in the air.  Or maybe it was lust.  Either way, you can't lose with the stuff we use.  I counted four married couples who had met at the studio.  I counted six unmarried couples who had also met at the studio.  This included Lawrence and Ashley.  The six couples were using this trip as a way to explore the next phase of their relationship.  Catching my eye, Ashley flashed a big smile.  I was glad to know she and Lawrence were happy together. 

Scanning the room, I grinned when I saw Louis and Callie.  Two months earlier, Houston had been turned into a giant lagoon by Tropical Storm Allison.  This had been the night when 30 people were stranded at the studio.  Although Louis and Callie had never met before, they both noticed the comfortable couch at the same time and made a beeline.  That is all it took.  Taking full advantage of the darkness and the strange circumstances, they were busy smooching within 15 minutes.  For the rest of the summer they were inseparable.  So here we were, two months later.  Louis and Callie were not only still together, they were on my trip.  Amazing. 

Another couple on board was Doug and Jamie.  They had announced their engagement shortly before the trip.  Their wedding was seven months away.  Like I keep saying, one new wedding every month.  I knew Doug and Jamie very well.  I had given them three private lessons to prepare for their wedding dance, so I was tickled watching them practice what I had taught.